


a world of trouble on my mind

by lilbabybirdie



Category: Bleach, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Road Trips, for bleach at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 18:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilbabybirdie/pseuds/lilbabybirdie
Summary: Their first encounter with the Winchesters, surprisingly enough, did not involve ghosts.





	a world of trouble on my mind

If Ichigo had to pick a dream vacation, any vacation, a road trip across American with his three most spiritually aware human friends would not be his first pick. In fact, it wouldn’t even be in his top hundred. But Urahara hadn’t exactly given him a choice when he’d gathered them all at the Shoten and heavily implied they should lay low for a while after school let out.

Soul Society was swearing in the new Central 46 in a few weeks time. Ichigo was surprised they hadn’t been sworn in already; it’d been over five years since Rukia’s arrest and the subsequent invasion that had revealed the previous ones’ murders. But apparently the wheels of Soul Society’s governing body took a long time to get rolling, and they’d only just gotten together a group of able and venerable citizens to take their place.

“What’s that got to do with us?” Ichigo had asked, arms crossed and voice sullen. Even then, he’d had a bad feeling were this was headed.

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” Urahara had insisted more than once. “But… I’d rather have you and our more _unique_ friends out of shinigami reach while I feel out the new government.”

It didn’t scare Ichigo, knowing that with a new ruling body there was a chance Soul Society would declare he and his friends criminals because of what they were. It didn’t frighten him, the implication that they might send their soldiers out to correct what they saw as aberrations on this plane of existence. Ichigo wasn’t being arrogant when he said that there was nothing Soul Society could do to him. Not when half their shinigami respected or feared him, and the other half were his friends. Not when he was stronger now than most of their captains, and the Captain Commander had already betrayed Soul Society once to side with Ichigo and his rag tag group on a matter of justice. So no, this new threat didn’t scare Ichigo.

It pissed him off.

In hindsight, that was probably why Urahara had waited until the last minute to tell them. If Ichigo had had months to stew over it, or even just a couple weeks, there’s no guarantee he wouldn’t have done anything… rash.  
“There might not be a problem,” Urahara said again. “The new government could continue to treat you like war heroes, as the temporary government does. There’s no need to do anything drastic.”

_Not yet_ , he didn’t say, but his eyes, cold and flinty, told Ichigo that if there was a need for anything “drastic” then Urahara would not hesitate. It kind of warmed Ichigo, the older man going out of his way for them like this.

Then Urahara had kicked the four of them in the general direction of America and any gratitude Ichigo felt shriveled up and died. Now they, along with Kon, were on a roadtrip across the U.S, and it was…. surprisingly bearable. Ichigo knew that if he’d taken a trip like this with Keigo and Mizuiro then he’d be pulling his hair out by the end of the first week, but so far it’d been fine. Maybe it was because he’d traveled with this group before, so he knew what to expect; maybe it was because they already knew all his worst secrets, so he wasn’t tying himself in knots trying to hide them; or maybe it was because Ichigo had grown resigned to an utter lack of the privacy he’d coveted before Rukia barged into his life. Whatever the reason, their impromptu road trip was not the living hell Ichigo had feared it would be.

They were driving in the desert at the moment, Ichigo squinting at where the road faded into the horizon. Somehow the sheer amount of space in America kept catching him off guard; it looked like you could drive forever and never find another soul. The only place he’d seen like it was Hueco Mundo, but here it was breathtaking rather than melancholy. He wondered if Nel would like it here.

Chad sat in the seat next to him, dozing intermittently. When Ichigo drove, Chad always got shotgun. Inoue was beside him, swinging her legs and occasionally kicking the seat. Ishida sat beside her, usually with a sewing project spread out across both their laps. Ichigo didn’t know how he managed to sew anything in a moving vehicle without stabbing himself. Kon sat in the very back, presumably asleep since he wasn’t yaking their ears off. Sometimes Ichigo wondered if he was trying to make up for the times when he couldn’t talk, when he had to pretend to be a normal, inanimate stuffed animal around other humans.

“We should have hit the town by now,” Ishida announced. Ichigo could see him in the rearview mirror, pouring over the state map. Inoue made a vague questioning noise, staring vacantly out the window. Chad didn’t react at all.

“Did you make a wrong turn?” Ishida demanded.

“There haven’t been any turns,” said Ichigo. The map rustled behind him. Ishida was useless with road maps but insisted on studying them anyway. Ichigo thought it was a control thing. They didn’t have a real destination in mind at the moment, so Ishida got the map. He’d hand it back to Chad when they actually wanted to get somewhere.

“I could’ve sworn we should have hit a town by now,” Ishida muttered, probably working himself up into a right worry.

“I don’t see why it matters,” Ichigo said. “We’ve got enough gas to last us another day or so.”

“It matters,” Ishida said tartly, “because I want to sleep in an actual room tonight.”

“But we’re out in the desert now,” Inoue said. “Imagine all the stars we could see if we spent the night out here!”

Ishida faltered but held firm. “No. The stars will wait, but our body odor certainly won’t. I want to have a shower before we become too repugnant to show our faces in town.”

Out the corner of his eye, Ichigo saw Chad discreetly sniff himself. Ichigo personally thought Ishida was overreacting; none of them had showered since the day before yesterday, but it was nothing some hand wipes and a little deodorant couldn’t fix. He tapped the wheel, squinting against the way the sunlight hit the road. Still, it might be nice to sleep in a bed after camping out for nearly a week. “How’s our hotel budget?”

“The budget is fine,” Ishida dismissed. Unlike reading road maps, Ishida had a great deal of skill in accounting, and it really eased the strain of this whole trip on their collective savings. That, and the fact they hadn’t come to America in a… conventional manner. Ichigo eased up on the gas; they were approaching a stoplight.

“Can we spend tomorrow night outside then?” Inoue said. “I’ve always wanted to sleep under the stars, no tent or anything!”

“It might be kind of cold for that,” Ichigo said. Wasn’t that how deserts worked? Boiling during the day, freezing at night?

“I suppose we wouldn’t have to worry about mosquitoes in this kind of climate,” Ishida muttered.

The stoplight was red, even though there was literally no one else coming from miles around. Ichigo tapped the wheel impatiently.

“Did we miss the town entirely?” Ishida said. The sound of paper crinkling, probably from him turning the map for the millionth time.

“Maybe it burned down,” Inoue suggested. “Or, oooh, maybe it was abandoned after a colossal sandstorm hit! Maybe we drove right through and didn’t see it because it’s buried in sand!”

A black muscle car rolled up next to them. Ichigo could hear obnoxiously loud music blaring out of it. The guy in the passenger seat was big, not as big as Chad, but probably taller than the rest of them. The driver wore a dark leather jacket. He glanced at Ichigo, at their van, then did a double take.

Ichigo narrowed his eyes.

“Maybe we just need to drive a little longer,” Ishida said. “It is an interstate; we’re bound to hit something sooner or later.”

The muscle car guy was gesturing their way and laughing. His passenger looked like he was fighting a smile. The driver caught his eye and gave him a smirk. Ichigo immediately bristled.

The van was the first cheap car they found in America that could fit all of them. It was falling apart, older than Ichigo by at least a decade, and lovingly referred to by the old owner as “a total piece of crap.” They’d pooled their money together to buy it and, since Ishida said they planned to fix it up, she’d given them a discount, laughing and wishing them luck doing what she hadn’t been able to. None of them knew shit about cars, but that wasn’t an issue when Inoue could just reject all the worn out and damaged bits into something newer. She wouldn’t do the whole car (claimed it took too much energy, though Ichigo privately suspected she just liked the “vintage” look) but she fixed up all the internal bits and it ran fine.

Then Inoue had insisted they redecorate it as a “team-bonding project,” and that had gone… well, the van didn’t look any _worse_ (Ichigo wasn’t sure that was possible) but it wasn’t exactly improved by the redesign. While they all had their own unique, er, artistic sensibilities, they didn’t exactly go together and Ishida was the only one with any kind of skill. But even with that, stepping back after a long day of planning out designs, arguing over colors, and fighting for the spray cans, Ichigo couldn’t deny that the van felt like theirs in a way it hadn’t before. It was, Ishida’s words, an embarrassment, but it was their embarrassment. Ichigo wasn’t about to let some smarmy American douchebag shit all over that.

“Everybody buckled in?”

“Of course,” Ishida said, sounding offended. Then, “Wait-”

Ichigo jerked his head towards the light, scowling aggressively at the other driver. The man gave a disbelieving snort and a devil-may-care grin. Ichigo mouthed ‘try me.’

“Are we racing?!” Inoue said excitedly.

“We most certainly are not,” said Ishida.

The other driver revved his engine.

“A challenge!” Inoue gasped. “We can’t just let that lie! Our honor is at stake!”

“Don’t you dare,” Ishida hissed.

Ichigo’s hands flexed on the wheel. He caught Chad’s eye, inclining his head in question. Chad gave him a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Ichigo’s face split into a razor sharp grin.

The light turned green. Ichigo’s foot hit the floor and they were off, dust clouds in their wake, the black muscle car sailing along right beside them. The van interior creaked alarmingly as Ichigo pushed the thing to its limits, focus narrowed down to the strip of highway before them. The muscle car pulled ahead, but just barely. They were coming up on a curve.

“Go, go, go!” Inoue cheered, shaking the back of his seat.

It was common practice to slow down for curves like this, or at least not be doing, say, 90 or over. But Ichigo learned how to drive from Urahara Kisuke, who spent the first couple decades road laws were a thing gleefully using his newly invented Kikanshinki to get out of speeding tickets, if Shinji was to be believed. Ichigo knew how to take quick turns.

Inoue whooped while Ishida cursed as he hit the side of the car. Luggage thumped around the back; it’d probably be a horrible mess when they got around to unpacking it.

“Watch it!” yowled Kon, who’d probably been rudely woken from his nap by smacking into the car door since the idiot never wore a seatbelt. Chad didn’t say anything, but the ceiling handle creaked under his clenched fist. Ichigo mentally apologized to him. Chad wasn’t afraid of getting in a car wreck (he’d been walking those off since high school) but he did get awful carsick. They were neck and neck with the muscle car.

“You’re going to get us all killed!” Ishida spluttered. “Maybe you can just get back in your body, but we sure can’t!”

“My armor will protect me,” said Chad.

“I’m pretty sure I can just reject my death!” Inoue said, bouncing excitedly.

“Really, you’re the only one at risk here, Ishida,” said Ichigo, eyes not leaving the road. There weren’t any good landmarks in sight, so presumably whoever pulled ahead substantially would be the winner. They were both older cars, by Ichigo’s estimation, but the other driver was either rich or a huge car buff, because he clearly took care of his machine. Ichigo’s group, by contrast, really only knew how to drive theirs, relying on Inoue’s power to keep it in shape. They only had one real advantage over the other driver; Ichigo didn’t give a shit about keeping the van in tact.

They were coming up on a patch of rough road; long, jagged cracks split through it where it’d baked in the sun too long or been driven over a few too many times and no one had bothered to fill them in. The muscle car slowed down by a hair. Inoue thumped the back of his seat. “Step on it, we can beat them!”

Ichigo stepped on it.

The engine gave a wailing screech as they careened down the cracked asphalt, van jolting uncomfortably. But it did the trick; the muscle car lagged behind them, eventually fading from sight in the rearview mirror. Ichigo took his foot off the pedal, letting the van slow to a gradual stop by the side of the road, engine smoking alarmingly. Chad relinquished his grip on the ceiling handle. Inoue cackled, finally easing off Ichigo’s seat.

Ishida huffed. “So you’ve won this childish dick waving contest. I hope you’re happy.”

“I don’t wanna hear that from someone who thought summoning hollows to our town was an acceptable form of competition,” Ichigo shot back.

Ishida colored slightly. “That was a long time ago!”

The van was getting uncomfortably hot, probably due to the engine issue, so they all got out, Chad rolling his neck and stretching as he unfolded from the seat. Ichigo was half tempted to do some stretches himself, wired as he was from the race.

“And now you’ve broken our only means of transport,” Ishida lamented.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Relax, will you? Inoue can fix it.”

“It’s the principle of the thing!” Ishida insisted. “Just because Inoue-san can fix it doesn’t mean you should break it at the drop of a hat!”

“Guys?” Inoue herself said, peering down the road and shielding her eyes from the sun. “I think that other car is catching up.”

Sure enough, the black muscle car was rapidly approaching on the horizon. They stood to the side, waiting for the car to pass them, but instead it slid to a smooth stop just a little up the road. Both the driver and the passenger got out.

“You kids need a hand?” called out the driver. He was solid and broad-shouldered, but looked small next to his passenger. The passenger was even taller than Ichigo had first estimated, but still not as tall as Chad. Few were.

“No, it’s fine,” Ichigo said. He took a moment to find the words in English, before settling on, “We’ve got our mechanic with us.”

“Inoue Orihime, reporting for duty!” Inoue cried, fist thrust out exuberantly.

The other car’s driver eyed her appreciatively. “Mechanic, huh? You must know your way around cars pretty well if you’ve managed to keep that thing running.”

“That _thing_ just beat your metal monstrosity,” Ishida said scathingly. Ichigo smothered an eye roll. When it came to competition, Ishida was very much a ‘do as I say, not as I do,’ kind of person.  
“Hey, hey, no need for name calling,” the driver said, putting both hands up in surrender.

“Anyway,” cut in the passenger, “I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean. You sure you don’t need any help? That looks… kinda bad.”

“We can handle it,” Ichigo said, reluctantly charmed by the show of altruism. Not many people handled being totally creamed so well. “I’m Kurosaki Ichigo, and these are Yasutora Chad, Inoue Orihime, and Ishida Uryuu.”

“Uryuu Ishida,” Ishida corrected severely.

“Right!” Inoue said, punching her hand. “I totally forgot! Names are reversed in English!”

Ichigo had forgotten too, but he didn’t think it mattered much anyway. It wasn’t like the Winchesters would be meeting any other Kurosakis.

“I take it you guys aren’t from around here, then?” Sam asked, polite, like he hadn’t noticed their somewhat atrocious accents. They could all understand English just fine, but Chad was the only one who could speak it and be mistaken for a local. Then again, that might be due to… other factors.

“We’re from Japan. On vacation,” Ichigo said, which was technically true if you counted hiding from Soul Society over summer break as a vacation.

The driver, Dean, whistled. “Pretty far from home. Did the van come with you or did you get it over here?”

“We got it here,” Ichigo admitted. “It was cheap.”

Dean looked like he was going to add something to the effect of ‘I’ll bet it was,’ but his brother elbowed him. Ichigo, grudgingly, was starting to like them more and more.

“Are you sure you don’t need a lift or anything? It’s no trouble,” said Sam.

“We’ve got some tools in the car,” Dean offered.

Ichigo waved his hand. “Nah, we’ve got everything we need right here.”

“If you’re sure,” Sam said. Then he bit his lip, rummaging through his pockets. He drew out a scrap of paper and a pen. “I’ll give you our number just in case, alright?”

“Feel free to call anytime,” said Dean, winking at them. Or maybe just Inoue.

“Sure,” Ishida said, sounding totally unenthused. “We really don’t want to keep you, so…”

“It was nice meeting you all,” said Sam, sounding so earnest that even Ishida defrosted a little.

“Good race,” Dean said, putting a hand out. It took Ichigo a second to realize what he wanted.

Dean’s grip was firm and warm around his own as they shook hands. He grinned roguishly at Ichigo, who belatedly realized Dean was one of the prettiest people he’d ever met. Blinking in the aftershock, Ichigo let go.

“It was nice meeting you as well!” Inoue said. Handshakes all around, in the American style, then the Winchesters packed themselves back into their car and sped away, waving as they went.

“I liked them,” Inoue said brightly.

Ishida sniffed. “Their manners could use some work.”

Chad shrugged, seemingly disinterested. He wasn’t big on socializing with strangers.

“They were alright,” Ichigo decided. Then, glancing at the van, said, “I think the engine’s on fire.”

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism welcome! ^-^


End file.
